


A Man of the Cloth

by firesign10



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Dreams of Jensen, Masturbation, Other, Panties, Priest Kink, Priests, SPN Masquerade Kink Meme, self gratification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firesign10/pseuds/firesign10
Summary: Father Padalecki has a secret under his priest's garb. He likes to wear panties.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39
Collections: SPN_Masquerade Spring 2020





	A Man of the Cloth

**Author's Note:**

> From the SPN Masquerade Spring 2020 Round.

Father Padalecki gently closed the double doors of his church, leaning his forehead against the cool wood. He loved Sundays; loved presenting a service that meant something to his parishioners, loved tending his flock, but it was quite tiring as well. Writing the sermon, presenting it, talking with everyone afterward--by the time he was done, he was ready for a good cup of tea.

And if a dollop of whiskey fell into that, well...

Sometimes he just plain skipped the tea.

Locking the deadbolt, he sighed again as he walked down the center aisle toward his private rooms. He didn't bother picking up fallen pamphlets along the way, he'd send an altar boy tomorrow to clean up. Now was one of the few times for just him—a few hours where, having ministered to his congregation, he could breathe and rest before preparing for another week of mentoring, teaching, leading. It was an endless cycle, but he did love it. He could never keep going otherwise.

Reaching his private quarters, Father Padalecki shut that door too, locking it securely behind him. Alone at last, behind the secured doors that promised his privacy, he felt comfortable enough to shrug off his vestments, his sash, his belt, and his crucifix, leaving him attired in a simple black tab-collar shirt and dress slacks.

Now he was just Jared. No more 'Father Padalecki' but just himself, just Jared, son of Sharon and Gerald, brother of Megan and Jeff. Admitted to the seminary, then pledged to priesthood. Everlasting celibacy, spreading the gospel, bringing his flock to God, etcetera, etcetera. 

What a fucking load it all was.

Not that he didn't care for his fellow man. He did, most assiduously. God was love, and everyone needed that. Just...Jesus, the restrictions. The rules. Do this, don't eat that. And whatever you do, no sex. NO SEX.

Fuck that. Fuck it sideways.

Slumping in a chair, Jared rubbed his eyes and face. That was one of the conundrums of the Holy Church he could never reconcile. Humans were sexual; they were built for sex, to copulate, to procreate. It was insane to instruct them otherwise. The Holy Roman Church's history was full of lusty Popes seducing men and women to their advantage. And yet they frowned on regular people performing regular acts like making love or taking care of their physical needs in a solitary fashion.

Jared opened a cupboard and pulled out a bottle. The amber liquid sloshed gently as he poured himself half a glass. He savored the aroma, the taste, and the burn as it traveled down his throat. _Ahhh._

Now he could really relax. He pulled his white collar out from his black tab-collar, tossing it on the table. Now he was Jared. Now he could take a moment to enjoy himself, take care of his own needs, so stifled by his calling. Someday he might have to choose between his vocation and his true self, but for now he managed to get by with stolen moments like these.

Jared took his glass and went into his bedroom. It was just as ascetic as one might expect of a priest's room; a simple bed, a couple of bookcases, a nightstand. He did have a nice padded chair here, and his books were not all religious but included mysteries, thrillers, and the like. One shelf of the bookcase held a small bar with a couple of whiskey bottles, a vodka bottle, and some glasses. He was not a heavy drinker, but Jared did find that by the end of the evening, he liked a nightcap to take the edge off.

Now, though, now...it was time to strip off his severe black clothing, put aside the formal cloth and don his bathrobe, all plush and comfort, his balm in the evening. A rich, dark burgundy, it was velvety soft, enveloping him in a comfort that the rest of his life eschewed. Now he could settle in bed or in his chair, pick up a worldly book, sip on his drink, and relax.

He did just that, and as he sat, he felt them. Felt his secret sliding against his ass, snugging up against his junk (oh, how he liked that dirty term, _junk_ ), beckoning his desire to come out of the staid, straight-laced persona he had to present all week.

His panties.

Sometimes Jared thought he might go crazy with his own sexuality clamoring for freedom, much less dealing with the physical urges of his entire parish. His congregation was full of randy teenagers, frustrated wives, lecherous husbands, horny spinsters with a crush on him, and so on. Sitting in his little cubicle in the confessional, listening to endless disclosures filled with desire, lust, wanton behavior, venality—it would drive anyone mad. It would have driven Jared mad, except he'd found a coping mechanism. A way to deal with all of the sex washing over him, all of that physical experience that he could not actually participate in.

His panties.

Jared unfastened the belt of his robe, let his fingertips slide inside. He closed his eyes as those questing fingers found the smooth, silky fabric that wrapped around his body and encased his genitals. Certainly not on any Catholic-approved garment list, nonetheless Jared found great ease in his special undergarments that he usually saved just for Sundays. 

He pushed his robe all the way open, letting it drape down the sides of his thighs. Just being bare-legged felt sinful—all that flesh exposed, skin and hair and muscle revealed. Jared ran and worked out, so he had quite a bit of solid muscle laid on, and being 6 foot 4 inches, there was a lot of leg to expose.

And his panties.

This week's pair was teal; a vibrant mix of deep blue-green like the sea, expressed in a satiny finish and embellished with black lace. The fabric was stretchy, but it strained as it wrapped over Jared's impressive dick and balls. No ladies' panties were meant to encompass such a bulge, and it seemed like it should tear or burst with the immensity of Jared's cock. He'd looked sideways back in boys' school and seminary plenty of times, checking to see if he was ordinary enough. In fact, as he'd finally realized, he was extraordinary—his cock oversized, his balls a huge, heavy weight. He'd thought wryly that it was a waste to gift a celibate like him with such generous equipment, but God did as God saw fit.

Jared took another throat-warming sip of whiskey as he looked down and contemplated the black and teal panties. Just seeing the color shift as the material bulged and dipped was exciting. He reached down with one hand and trailed a finger over himself, shivering at the smooth thrill of it. Now his hand cupped himself, cradling his swelling cock, his flesh hot underneath the thin material. He breathed a little heavier as he drank again, more deeply this time. His fingers slid further down to his balls, trapped behind his dick in the tight fabric, undulating under the pressure of his hand.

Now his focus was all on the silky material and his hot, hard flesh beneath it. All day he had thought about his secret underneath his prim black suit, his priestly vestments during Mass. As he'd administered the Host, he'd thought _what if they knew? What if they could see?_ and smiled beneficently as he'd given the wafer and moved on. The rub and tug of his panties sustained him through the beefy businessmen and the flirty, perfumed wives as they shook hands at the end of the service. _If only they knew..._

And now, it was just him. Him and his whiskey and his hand, his dick and balls in their sensual, forbidden wrapping of satin and lace, contrasting shockingly with his tan skin. He could see a dark spot now, where his dick was leaking pre-come, and it was so erotic. He rubbed the dark spot, felt more pre-come seep out, brought his finger to his mouth to taste what had soaked through. His legs opened more and he slumped in his chair as his eyes closed while he rubbed his whole hand over himself.

Having his eyes closed let Jared really start fantasizing. His free hand trailed across his chest, tracing his pecs and toying with his nipples. They hardened quickly, and he tugged and rolled them, relishing the pleasure that radiated out. One of his parishioners, a handsome young man, had had a thin shirt on in the early spring weather, and Jared had had a difficult time not staring at the perky points beneath the delicate fabric. He'd bet himself that had the shirt been white, he'd see the pink coloring of those tender nips, and his cock had swelled against his panties. That day, if he recalled, they had been a virginal white cotton with a little pearl bow.

Jared caught his breath, the sensuality of that moment catching him in the gut. He'd noticed that young man before. Jensen, that's right, it was Jensen Ackles, dutifully attending with his parents. Jared had noted it, because Jensen had an almost unearthly beauty, yet was still undeniably masculine. A juxtaposing of thick, long lashes over green eyes with a strong jawline, plump pink lips with a light dusting of stubble. Broad shoulders and narrow waist. Thick biceps and a bubble butt. It was as if God had taken everything that appealed to Jared and molded it into Jensen.

Jared groaned, his cock now pushing hard against the teal panties. The wet spot was twice as large, and the crotch on one side had slipped into the crack between his ball and thigh, digging into the tender flesh. It hurt exquisitely.

The hand on his panties squeezed, and the head of his cock popped out the other side opening, plopping onto his thigh. Jared caught his breath at feeling the drip of fluid onto his skin, the final surging of blood swelling his dick to its utmost considerable size. Running his fingers over the wetness at the head, he stroked down, enjoying the heat and pulse of his own blood inside his shaft.

His other hand gave his nipples a final hard pinch before moving down to his balls, still trapped inside the panties. He scratched softly, enjoying the muted stimulation through the material, then rolling them a little roughly. Jared imagined someone else playing with them, someone with firm, deft hands that wouldn't release them until Jared begged. His fingers slid smoothly behind his balls, rubbing hard over his hole, still protected by its silken shield. There too, that deft hand rubbing, elegant fingers probing, pushing past the slick fabric to burrow inside his hungry, virgin hole...

Jared gasped, the raw lust punching the air from his chest. His hand tightened on his cock, tugging harder and faster while his fingers pressed deeper into his hole, yet stymied by the panties. Jared thrust up into his hand, and every buck of his hips rubbed satin across his sensitive balls, driving up his arousal. Lost in the pleasure of his hands and the panties, Jared wondered what it would feel like to have a mouth on his dick; a mouth with pouty lips, their color darkened with sex and slick with pre-come. Would it be hot and wet in there? What would that teasing tongue feel like as it lapped and licked his dick? How insane would it feel when Jared looked down at that perfect plush mouth on him, and saw those big green eyes staring at him, silently begging him to come inside there, besmirch those altar-boy looks with thick, white spunk?

“Ahh!” shouted Jared, arching in his chair. His white spunk spilled onto his leg, smearing all over his busy hand. One final squeeze of his balls, already high and tight in their sac, and he collapsed back into the chair's embrace, his hand still gently massaging his cock for a few more moments. His head lolled, eyes closed as he drifted in the bliss of post-orgasm. Jared idly brought his hand up and licked it, imagining his dream lover's pink tongue sliding around on Jared's fingers to clean him up.

Several minutes went by with Jared dozing, his cock softening and his limbs boneless. Eventually he stirred, rising to clean himself off and then falling into bed, riding his residual high into sleep.


End file.
